


a bad combination

by flowermasters



Series: lady kylo ren (and her general) [7]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Background Finn/Rey, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Medical Trauma, Miscommunication, Post-Battle of Starkiller Base, Post-Canon, What else is new, hux is low key a mother hen and kylo is suffering, no seriously they don't know how to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6358189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowermasters/pseuds/flowermasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only one person would be here, waiting at the bedside of Kylo Ren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a bad combination

**Author's Note:**

> I very nearly lost this because my laptop decided this would be a good time to crash, but - here it is, a Starkiller fic. You can all blame (or thank, I guess?) Splintered_Star.
> 
> Warnings for: cisgirl Kylo, the author's utter disregard for chronology, discussion of canonical death and violence, some ... issues with medicinal drugs, mild suicidal stuff. Kylo's ... not in a good place. Hux isn't either, actually.
> 
> The title of this actually comes from episode 4x02 of Bates Motel, which I was half-watching while I wrapped this up. The full quote is, "I love you and I'm afraid of you and that's a bad combination."

The pain in Kylo's side has faded to a dull, hot ache, even though she's still aware that the flesh there gapes open, her lifeblood leaking from her. Perhaps she's in shock. It doesn't matter.

The fresh wound on her face prickles, and it is this sting that Kylo focuses on. Distantly, she is aware of the scavenger girl – and Chewbacca – and FN-2187, barely clinging to life – but they will be long gone as soon as they make it to the Falcon. There is only the snapping of trees now, the rumbling of the ground below her, her oncoming death. Kylo focuses on the pain and waits, quietly, for it to end.

Naturally, Hux – and the universe at large, really – has to make things _difficult_.

Kylo is only dimly aware of an approaching craft, but she is doused with snow when it lands too close to her. She opens her eyes when gloved hands grab her under the knees and shoulders – _no time for a stretcher_ , somebody thinks, followed closely by someone else's _we're all going to die_ – and sees only the helmeted faces of two Stormtroopers. _They can see my face_ , Kylo thinks distantly. _Nobody sees my face._

That's not entirely true, of course. Hux stands just at the top of the entrance ramp, holding on to a support grip to maintain his balance as the craft rocks uncontrollably. His eyes are fixed on the crumbling landscape before him, and when his gaze finally slides to meet Kylo's, she sees her own abject horror reflected back at her in his face. They don't look away from one another as Kylo is carried toward him, not even when Starkiller falls away as the shuttle lifts and the bay door thuds closed.

"Wait," Kylo says, as the troopers try to bear her past Hux, farther into the craft. The word sounds muffled to her own ears, but Hux winces ever so slightly, like she's screamed at him. She fumbles for a moment and then offers him her saber, knowing it will be taken from her when she finally succumbs to unconsciousness. At least she can trust Hux's paranoia enough to know he'll hold onto it himself, rather than entrusting it to one of these fools.

Hux takes it, opens his mouth to say something to her, and then seems to think better of it. "Move," he barks at the troopers, and they do, so quickly that Kylo's vision grays out for a second as the wound on her side protests all the jostling.

Kylo comes back around on a cot, seemingly in a more secluded area of the shuttle. Someone is cutting her out of her tunic, but the fabric is sodden with blood and snow and clings to her skin. She's shivering, and suddenly there are gloved hands holding her head still as someone attempts to assess the depth of the cut on her face. "Leave it," she orders, jerking against the hold, "don't touch me –,"

Dimly, Kylo hears someone think _where has Hux gone, can't he get her under control_ , and a split second later the hands are gone from her head. There's a dull thump as a limp body hits the floor. Kylo barely notices, too focused on a sudden stinging pain in her neck – a needle. She struggles, screaming and incoherent, and then the darkness takes her at last.

The dreams Kylo has in this awful sleep are but phantoms, intangible and constantly changing. Over and over she hears Han Solo's voice – _"Beni!"_ – and then watches him plummet into the same void that should've swallowed her up, too. At some point the cycle ends. She hears her mother's voice now, but that is far more distant, so faint that Kylo can hardly make out the words. Eventually Leia's presence fades, too, and for a while there is silence.

Kylo wakes up by degrees. First, she is aware of something unfamiliar and itchy stuck to her face. A bandage, perhaps. Everything below her shoulders is heavy and close to numb. No doubt they've drugged her to the point of uselessness. She'll kill them all for it, she will –

There's somebody nearby. A familiar presence, mind humming with rapid-fire activity, although not in a pleasant manner, not now. This person is tired, filled with an exhaustion so bone deep that it's now actively preventing rest. She's so addled that she cannot hear his thoughts, but she doesn't need to. Only one person would be here, waiting at the bedside of Kylo Ren.

Hux is sitting down, which Kylo finds mildly surprising, even in her drugged state. Somehow she'd expected to find him standing at attention, staring down his nose at her in disgust. Hux looks, by his standards, quite unprofessional. He's still mostly in uniform, but has shed his greatcoat and his gloves – they've been placed neatly on another chair. One lock of crisp red hair has fallen out of place, seemingly unnoticed. He stares fixedly down at a datapad, one finger hovering over the screen.

"Hux," Kylo says finally. Her throat is dry, voice so ruined that she can barely manage a whisper.

"Ah, you're awake, finally," Hux says, just a bit too calmly. He must've been aware of her wakefulness, then, but has been pretending otherwise. Kylo can't fathom why. With her ability to skim his thoughts temporarily muted, Hux's mannerisms have become somewhat mystifying.

"How –," Kylo attempts, voice cracking piteously even to her own ears. Hux waves his hand at her and sets aside his datapad.

"Patience, Lady Ren," he says dryly, rising on stiff legs and walking over to a sink that Kylo hadn't noticed before. She seems to be in an infirmary – the sick bay of the _Finalizer_ , no doubt – but she's in a private room. That's probably more for everybody else's sake than for her own, she notes disinterestedly, her gaze drifting to the ceiling.

Hux returns a few seconds later, proffering a small cup of water. Kylo attempts to take it from him, but her arms and hands feel heavy and clumsy, and get tangled in the stiff sheets covering her body. Hux sighs as if intensely put-upon, but he mutters for her to be still and then holds the cup to her mouth to allow her to drink from it. When water drips down her chin, Kylo wonders if he's going to wipe it off for her, but he doesn't.

When she's downed everything in the cup, Hux sets it aside, too, and sits back down, posture impeccable. "How long?" Kylo rasps.

"You've been asleep for roughly twelve hours," Hux says, his gaze flicking away briefly, no doubt looking towards a wall chrono. "You were only sedated for ten of those hours. You've been given painkillers, of course."

Judging by the slightly bloodshot state of Hux's eyes, he's been awake for all twelve of the hours she's been drifting. "I meant how long have you been here," Kylo clarifies dully.

Hux frowns. "About three hours," he says, after a moment's hesitation. "There's – some things I'd like to discuss with you."

Kylo doesn't have a response for this. Hux can _discuss_ all he wants; she has nothing to offer the First Order at the moment. Hux doesn't seem inclined to get started, instead watching as Kylo reaches up with one of her nearly useless hands to fumble with the bandage on her face, gingerly mapping the area with her fingers.

"I'd stop fussing with that, if I were you. It's not been properly cared for. I told the medics to leave it alone til you woke, or you'd have their heads for it."

Kylo surprises herself by obediently lowering her hand, and says nothing. It seems oddly generous of Hux to do that for her, to make sure nobody took this from her – this brand, this mark of sacrifice. Of failure.

Hux must take her silence for lack of understanding, because he says, "Well, don't you remember? You were – you didn't want anyone to touch it, apparently. You snapped a man's neck."

Kylo doesn't remember any of that, and supposes she should be bothered. The last thing she remembers before a whole lot of cold and dark is watching Rey run to the boy, listening to the vaguest impression of her thoughts as she went – _Finn, Finn, Finn_ , like some kind of panicked internal rhythm, pulsing away in the little scavenger girl. _She loves him_ , Kylo thinks. She'd suspected it before, but now it's clear. Such a pity.

Kylo doesn't want to think about love. It makes her think of Han Solo, and the infernal, wretched love pouring out of him til the instant his last breath left him. Love is almost as guilty of killing her father as she is.

" _Ren_ ," Hux says loudly, drawing Kylo unwillingly from her thoughts. "I know you're off your head at the moment, but the least you could do is _try_ to focus."

Kylo gives him a tired look, and Hux sighs with the air of someone who is repeating themselves, and not for the first time. "What happened on Starkiller? Who did all this to you?" he asks, with a vague gesture towards Kylo's wounded side. "Not just that girl, surely."

"She had help," Kylo says, because that's what Hux is really after – details, something he can work with. She knows him well enough to guess that, at least. "From FN-2187. And a Wookie named Chewbacca – he did this to me for what I did to Han Solo."

"Han Solo," Hux repeats, eyebrows quirking upwards. She expects a self-satisfied smirk, or perhaps yet another disparaging comment about her lineage. Hux gives her neither of these things.

"Yes," Kylo says, and then, because it seems painfully important to clarify, "He's dead."

When Hux merely stares at her, Kylo adds, "I killed him."

Hux maintains an impassive expression, and if Kylo were currently capable of the emotional depth required for anger, she'd be annoyed that she cannot read him the way she usually does. Hux can hide things from her – for the moment – and it's discomfiting. "Really," he says, after an oddly long pause. "Well. How Han Solo died is of little concern to me, or to the First Order. I suspect Snoke will want to know, but that's up to you."

"He already knows," Kylo murmurs, sure of it.

Hux frowns. "If you say so, Lady Ren. At any rate, I've been instructed to bring you to him, so you'll find out soon enough."

She will, indeed. Once she reaches the citadel, her master will either help her move past this failure or he will kill her; strangely, both thoughts inspire equal amounts of dread in her. Kylo says nothing, gaze returning to the ceiling. Beside her, Hux practically vibrates with frazzled energy and exhaustion. Errantly, Kylo wonders if he's even attempted to sleep since Starkiller's destruction. Hux's presence might actually be acceptable, or at the very least tolerable, if he didn't look dead on his feet.

"Kylo, what –," Hux begins suddenly. He hesitates as if reevaluating his approach, then continues stiffly, "Are you in pain? I can summon a doctor, if you require it."

She's not in any more pain than usual, really. Physically Kylo feels next to nothing, and emotionally she feels everything, just under a layer of thick, cloudy numbness. It would be a welcome respite if she didn't feel so helpless, so lost. "I'm not in pain."

"Then what's the matter with you?" Hux asks, brow furrowing. "Is it your father, then?"

"Do _not_ speak to me of Han Solo," Kylo says. She means to roar it, to make Hux flinch back from the sound like a scolded child, but her raw throat refuses to cooperate. It comes out as a ragged whisper, but she musters enough rage to get her point across anyway. Hux, too stubborn for his own good, refuses to look away.

"Have it your way, then," Hux says sharply. "Speak to me, or don't. But as of right now, Lady Ren, I'm the closest thing you have to a – well, a _friend_ , and if there's anything that will make you unfit for the Supreme Leader, then _tell_ me, damn it."

Kylo blinks at him. "You make no sense," she says, somewhat dumbfounded. "Soon I'll be gone, and you'll likely never have to see me again. You don't care what the Supreme Leader does to me." After a few seconds, Kylo's sluggish brain catches up with her mouth, and she realizes she shouldn't have phrased it that way. The Supreme Leader is going to end her torment, one way or another, and Kylo remains a willing servant. To make it seem like anything else would be treasonous.

Hux stares at her for a long moment, then abruptly rises to his feet. "You're right, Lady Ren," he says with a well-practiced coldness, reaching for his greatcoat and shrugging it on, followed closely by his gloves. "Of course I don't."

Kylo watches as Hux briskly adjusts the fit of his uniform, making himself presentable. He reminds her vaguely of a soldier armoring himself for war. An ironic thought, as Hux has never – will never – see battle from anywhere other than the safety of the bridge. He has yet to fix his hair, but perhaps he simply hasn't noticed, too busy being a thorn in Kylo's side to care. Briefly, she thinks of sitting up, swiping her fingers over his forehead to put that lock of hair back into place for him. He'd probably shove her bodily from him if she tried to touch him so gently, and Kylo is so weak that she would be forced to allow it. The loathing that fills her at that thought is dull, unfocused. Tired. They are both so tired.

Hux stills suddenly, then reaches slowly into the deep pocket of his coat. "Here," he says, withdrawing her lightsaber from its depths and holding it out to her. "Your weapon, Lady Ren."

Kylo takes it, and swallows, preparing herself to thank him for keeping it safe for her, and for giving it back. Before she gets the chance, Hux says, "If I hear that you've done anything untoward with that saber, I'll see to it that you are sedated until I drop you at the base of Snoke's throne myself. Do I make myself clear?"

Kylo merely stares at him apathetically, though she knows she ought to call his bluff, threaten him, make him suffer for daring to tell her what she will or won't do. Strangely, her silence seems to have more of an effect on Hux than her yelling likely would have; his cheeks color faintly, and he squares his shoulders jerkily before sweeping from the room, greatcoat fluttering as he goes.

Kylo cannot feel Hux anymore, not once he is out of her line of sight, but she pretends she can hear the thud of his boots after he departs. The imagined sound blends with the rhythm of her own ragged breathing, and eventually she succumbs to blackness again. This time, it is a relief.

The interminable hours remaining as she is borne towards her master are filled with nothing but her own thoughts. Kylo finds that the time passes more quickly when she allows the doctors to drug her. She excuses this weakness to herself because it will allow her to recover more quickly, so that she may be ready when she reaches the Supreme Leader. Her training will not be completed easily, and she must be strong enough to face it.

Hux does not return to her; oddly enough, she expects him to. He'd claimed to have things to discuss, but – they hadn't had much of a discussion. If Hux were a more sentimental man, Kylo would say that was purely a front. As it is, she has better things to contemplate than General Hux, and takes his absence to mean that he has better things to contemplate than Kylo Ren. That's probably true, given that his life's work up to this point has been destroyed, rather spectacularly. No wonder he couldn't sleep. He probably still can't.

Kylo insists upon traveling to the hangar bay unaided, even though it is discouraged by the only medical officer who dares offer his opinion. Kylo shoves him away with the Force and keeps walking, slowly and steadily.

There's a shuttle waiting for her; she must travel the rest of the way alone, of course. There is no one there to see her off. Again, she is surprised, having expected Hux to show his face for this, at least. Kylo briefly considers summoning him – but no, she cannot keep the Supreme Leader waiting any longer. Still, she reaches out for Hux, her control of the Force somewhat restored as the medicine works its way out of her blood. With this comes the return of pain, but Kylo feels grateful for it after days of nothingness.

Hux is in one of the conference rooms near the bridge, sitting at the head of an elegant table. He is entirely alone, staring down at a datapad as usual. He taps the screen to send a message – something to a subordinate, curtly composed and utterly useless to Kylo – then swipes at it to switch views. Kylo is startled to glimpse herself through Hux's eyes, a small figure in a wide shot of the hangar bay. Hux has access to all information onboard the ship at all times, including security footage, but to sit and ogle from a datapad while she leaves – it's neurotic, even for Hux. He's impatient, can't believe she hasn't already departed. And yet.

Kylo withdraws from him, and stops herself as she half-turns to face the approximate location of the camera, or perhaps to go and seek him out. It doesn't matter why Hux watches. She must go.

Still, Kylo imagines the weight of his gaze on her long after she's gone – as if Hux is not quite behind her, yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be sad. I gave them children. (Children who don't get to meet Grandpa Han.)


End file.
